More Issues Than Vogue
by languidbones
Summary: Meet Scorpius, sexy fashion model with birds for brains. When Rose is forced to help him from flunking out of Hogwarts, they end up teaching each other about the things that matter beyond the classroom.
1. Homecoming

**Issue 1: Homecoming**

There was something akin to _magic_ in the air this Hogwarts day.

First of all, there was a gaggle of girls waiting in the courtyard, hands clasped and red-faced from excitement.

Second, Albus Potter and the rest of Slytherin were beaming their faces off as they yammered away at the house table, unnaturally raucous and merry on an otherwise ordinary Autumn afternoon.

But the third—and oddest thing of all—was the shrill, ghastly wails emerging from the girls' bathroom near the dungeons, where Potions classes were taken.

Rose Weasley was the only one to notice, having stayed behind after class to clarify a few matters regarding the brewing of a Wolfsbane potion with Professor Slughorn. The sheer intensity of the crying stopped Rose dead in her tracks. She waited a moment to see if it would cease, but another hysterical wail followed. Being the responsible Prefect, Rose hurried over to the oft-deserted bathroom to investigate.

The shriek that greeted her when she entered made her jump. It was no ghost.

"Warrington?" Rose blurted.

Her Slytherin classmate was huddled in one of the stalls, her face streaked with tears and her usually impeccable makeup running. Rose was absolutely taken aback to see Blaine Warrington in this state—the girl was well known for her icy and collected demeanor, and always made a picture-perfect impression. It was unusual to see any Slytherin girl cry in a public space. They were too proud for that.

At present, Rose's first reaction to this unsightly meltdown was to pull out her black and yellow handkerchief and offer it to Blaine.

It took a few minutes of shushing and a backrub or two for Blaine to calm down. She sniffled into the hanky and breathed deeply, her tears soaking into the Hufflepuff crest, before she finally met Rose's eyes (Rose wasn't sure if Blaine could see through the tears before).

"It's over," she croaked.

"What is?" Rose asked gently. "Of course, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to—"

"Me. And Scorpius." Saying the name was enough to set Blaine off the second time, her bawling echoing off the stone walls. Rose spent the rest of lunch patting Blaine's shoulder, letting the distraught girl keep her hanky to hide her smeared eyeliner.

When Rose finally makes it to the Great Hall, she was greeted by a most incredible scene. Girls and boys of all houses stood elbow to elbow by the Slytherin table, cameras going off left and right. There was a palpable air of excitement. In the midst of the chaos was Albus Potter—oh. Oh.

There he was. Scorpius Malfoy.

Rose could barely make it to her seat at the Hufflepuff table without getting jostled in the face. She was happy for Albus, of course, that he got his best friend back. But the circus Scorpius invited every time he returned was intensely overwhelming. Everyone loved to see him.

She joined her friend, Mathilda Fletchley, at the end of the table. Mathilda was clutching a Witch Weekly magazine with Scorpius gracing the cover, calling out his name and shrieking a little too enthusiastically. Coverboy Scorpius winked at Rose, and Rose couldn't help but snort. A flirt even in print.

"He's back, he's finally back!" Mathilda trilled, as Rose ducked under her friend's arm to help herself to the potatoes. "Oh Rose, _look_ at him!"

Rose rolled her eyes, but across the tables she finally caught a glimpse of the beautiful Scorpius Malfoy. Breaker of hearts, Britain's fashion sweetheart, and the new face of cousin Victoire's wizarding couture brand, Delacour.

She last saw him in the summer. He was better looking than she remembered, with his white-blond hair slicked back to reveal lightning blue eyes. He had beautifully sculpted cheekbones, and a smile that could melt Honeydukes' finest. In an interview somewhere, Scorpius claimed to like Quidditch, but not enough to play it. Certainly, he was not an athlete. His was a slim, lanky physique made to parade the runways of the wizarding world's most acclaimed fashion houses.

It really was insane how far he's come since first year, Rose thought absently, stuffing her mouth with potatoes as she watched Albus and Scorpius engage in a boyishly elaborate fist bump. Honestly, who would thought that delicate, reticent little Scorpius Malfoy would become…

At that moment, Rose's eyes met Scorpius' piercing blue ones, and she choked on her potatoes.

"He just looked at me!" Mathilda hissed breathlessly, grabbing Rose by the collar. "Rose! He looked at me! In the name of Helga Hufflepuff—"

Scorpius was talking to Albus again. Rose straightened up, trying to hide her blush. Well, she could certainly understand why the girls were going insane.

One couldn't blame her for getting the jitters around a boy that looked like that.

"He just broke up with Blaine," she said instead, reaching for a chicken leg.

"Who?"

"His girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend now. Blaine Warrington."

Mathilda's delighted shriek almost ignited a migraine. "What? How did you know? Tell—me— _everything_! Does this mean I have a chance?"

Funny, Rose thought wearily, how one boy could turn an entire school upside down.

* * *

The uproar over Scorpius' return calmed down somewhat the next day. Scorpius was back in class, loudmouthed and laughing. Rose bumped into Albus and Scorpius on their way to Transfiguration, and Scorpius grinned at her. "Rosie-kins!"

They were never close; if anything, Rose was only civil to him out of respect for Albus. She ignored the blush rising in her cheeks—he was bloody handsome and she was a normal girl, of _course_ she'd react—and raised an eyebrow at his informality. "Scorpius. Welcome back."

"Still so quiet and so stoic," Scorpius said playfully. "Surely you've loosened up since the last time we met?"

"She's not going to fall all over you like everyone else, give it up," Albus grumbled, throwing an arm over Rose's shoulder. "It's in our blood."

"True," Rose said dryly, as Scorpius pouted at her. "I was quite enjoying the peace and quiet you left behind."

"Al, your cousin honestly breaks my heart," Scorpius said dolefully.

"Good, you deserve it after breaking up with Blaine like that." Albus rolled his eyes. "By owl! You're a git, even by my standards."

"By _owl_?" Rose looked at Scorpius, appalled. That explained why Blaine was a bloody mess in the bathroom. "That's awful! She was sobbing her eyes out, did you know?"

"Can't do long distance," Scorpius said, somewhat coolly.

"Long distance?" Albus threw back his head and laughed. "Scorp, you're back here in case you haven't noticed!"

Scorpius shrugged. "You expect me to lead her on, then? Better late than never."

"You still could have found a better way to break it to her," Rose said sharply, surprised at how irritated she felt. "It wasn't very kind of you. Far be it for me to criticise your love life, I barely know you, but you could do better than an owl."

Scorpius and Albus turned to her, startled. Then Albus cackled. "She's right. As always."

Scorpius recovered quickly, narrowing his eyes at Rose. "Barely know me? Come off it, I've been friends with Al for six years! I see you at The Burrow every summer! We know each other well enough."

Honestly, was he even listening? He was a looker, but he sure was thick. Rose sighed, giving up. "What brings you back, anyway?"

"Not taking part in the Paris fashion weeks this year," Scorpius answered breezily, flashing a wide, charming smile at a passing group of goggly-eyed first years and leaving them in nervous titters. "Father decided enough was enough. _Fashion, how frivolous! How un-Malfoy! You're an embarrassment to our name!_ It's almost NEWTs, anyway. Got to pull up my socks and all that." He lowered his voice. "My grades at Beauxbatons were a disaster. Never saw Mother speechless like that."

"That's because you're a model, mate," Albus said consolingly, patting his friend's shoulder. "And blond. Not much going for you upstairs, is there?"

Scorpius huffed and elbowed him, not appreciating the sarcasm. "Excuse you, I was busy," he cried. "Why, I'll have you know I earned enough money to travel round the world twice before graduation. Why do my grades matter when I have my face?"

Rose shook her head in disbelief. What Blaine or any girl saw in Scorpius was beyond her. He was sweet enough, sure, but he was—always had been—horribly shallow. They arrived at Transfiguration, and Scorpius spent the class winking away at various girls. Blaine Warrington looked absolutely wretched the entire time, her eyes suspiciously wet. Rose felt sorry for her.

It was no wonder she wasn't friends with Scorpius. Despite his close ties to Albus and Victoire, he was careless with people. That was the thing about popular kids. They trampled all over others without a second thought.

Rose hated that.

Much to her chagrin, Mathilda ogled him throughout class. "He's so dreamy, isn't he?"

Yeah, if he doesn't eat your heart and spit it out, Rose wanted to say, but decided to focus on her notes instead. The subject of Scorpius Malfoy was beginning to annoy her.

It was to her surprise that Professor McGonagall asked for her to stay behind after class. Rose waited by the chalkboard, then blinked when McGonagall said, "Malfoy, you too."

Scorpius tilted his head in surprise, pointed at himself as if to say, 'me?'. Albus indicated he would be waiting outside. The blond boy stepped up beside Rose, and McGongall regarded them both, her lips pursed.

"Mr Malfoy," she said tersely, "Something rather shocking has come to my attention last night."

Rose and Scorpius looked back blankly at her.

McGonagall pulled a blue folder from under her diary. Scorpius paled. Rose glanced curiously at him, and McGonagall opened up the folder.

"You received an _A_ for Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. _P_ for Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Another _Acceptable_ for Divination. Oh, look, an _E_ for Potions, which I suppose is some consolation. But a _Dreadful_ for Transfiguration?" Steam almost seemed to be blowing from McGonagall's ears as she regarded Scorpius. "This is the worst grade I've ever seen from any student I've taught, much less a Malfoy. I am, quite frankly, stunned."

The silence wasn't pleasant. Rose could feel the dread emanating from Scorpius. Despite all his talk about the importance of grades—or lack thereof—he was obviously not taking this very well.

"I'm not sure what you've been doing at Beauxbatons, but surely it wasn't quite enough if you are failing my class." McGonagall gave him a look of fleeting contempt before turning to Rose. "That's where you come in, Miss Weasley."

"Professor?"

"Tutor him." McGonagall plopped the blue folder emblazoned with Beauxbaton's crest on the table like a diseased liver. "You study often, don't you, Miss Weasley? Then you'll study with Mr Malfoy here, and get his grades up before the NEWTs."

Rose felt alarm rising in her chest. "But Professor—"

"An _Acceptable_ in Transfiguration is the bare minimum," McGonagall interrupted. "If you fail this class, you will not graduate, Mr Malfoy. And you have your lucrative… _fashion_ career, I'm sure, but take some pride in your own abilities and less in what your parents gave you. As for you, Miss Weasley…" her eyes trailed over to Rose's Prefect badge, and Rose sensed a niggling fear in the pit of her stomach, "you are, of course, a candidate for Head Girl. Give me no reason to doubt you." She nodded at them, and the conversation was over.

Her Head Girl badge was going to rely on Malfoy? Rose fought the indignant scream bubbling in her chest. She sneaked a glance at Scorpius. He was staring at the wall behind McGonagall, eyes steely and stance rigid. If she was fuming, she could only imagine what _he_ was feeling.

Funny, Rose thought miserably, how one boy can turn _her_ life upside down.


	2. Academics

_Thank you to Sunnydaze, Rockon88, scorpiusrose and a Guest for leaving a kind review for my first chapter, it meant a lot!_

* * *

 **Issue 2: Academics**

"Hey! Where are you—"

"I'll explain later, Albus," Rose said in a hurry, brushing past her befuddled cousin in the corridor to catch up with Scorpius. He was stalking off into the hallway in lengthy strides; even in an outrage he was graceful. "Scorpius, _wait_!"

"Depend _less_ on what my parents gave me!" She could hear Scorpius fuming out loud, repeating McGonagall's words as he stomped across the grounds towards the Great Lake. "By Salazar, like I didn't lift a finger to achieve my wonderfully _lucrative_ fashion career—"

"Scorpius—"

"—threatening to flunk me out of school? I don't need these bloody qualifications. That's it, then. I'm quitting to go see dragons in Romania, travelling the world is a better option than being in this stuffy castle—"

"Excuse me?" Rose said in a high voice, finally getting close enough to grab hold of his arm. "Quitting school? Have you lost your mind?"

"Apparently not, seeing as I have no brains to begin with," Scorpius snapped, finally stopping in his tracks and turning to face her. "I'm over it. I'm not made for academics. Uncle Harry never graduated either and he's doing fine, isn't he?"

"Did you forget he also defeated a Dark Lord?" Rose dropped her book bag on the grass, eyeing Scorpius incredulously. "And what about my Head badge?"

"What about it?"

"My badge," Rose repeated, sounding shriller than she intended. "You know, the position I worked my butt off for the last five years?"

Scorpius leaned back to observe her bum. "Your butt looks fine to me."

Rose closed her eyes and counted to three.

" _Rose._ Who cares, alright? You're already a Prefect. Good job, fancy a pat on the back? What in Merlin's name do you need to be Head Girl for? You into power trips or something?"

Rose gaped at him in disbelief. " _Scorpius_ ," she gritted, in what she hoped was a fair and reasonable tone, "Not everyone already has their career under lock and key like you do. If I'm going to be considered for a role in the Ministry, being Head Girl will certainly help my cause."

"You're guaranteed a position," Scorpius exploded. "You're a bloody Weasley! Daughter of war heroes! You'll get whatever position you want and you know it."

"That's completely untrue—"

"Take it from me. I know how far a name can take you. Mine goes nowhere."

"What?"

"I'm a Malfoy. I could be Head Boy, Quidditch star, top of the class—it won't _matter_ once I'm out there. I won't be getting any respectable job. It makes zero sense for me to finish school, especially since I'm utterly bollocks at it."

"People are not going to judge you by your name," Rose said stubbornly. "If they did, you wouldn't be as famous as you are. Everyone adores you!"

"I'm only a star because fashion is shallow!" Scorpius cut in, his eyes blazing. "It's an industry run by superficial pricks. But hey, it works in my favour because nobody gives a toss about family history and war crimes, when _this_ —" he gestures wildly at his face, "—gets witches and wizards to purchase the coat that will ease their inferiority complex! So don't blame me for wanting to prance down runways and fill up my bank account before I sag and grow a wrinkle, instead of wasting my time getting _Dreadfuls_ for Transfiguration!"

His hysterical tirade gave way to a heavy, breathy silence. From a distance, the Giant Squid made bubbling sounds from the Great Lake. _Plop plop plop_. Rose stared at Scorpius for a moment, then turned on her heel.

"What—hey, where are you going?"

"7 o'clock. Library. Bring your Transfiguration homework."

"Did you not hear a _single_ word I just said?"

"Oh, I did." Rose whirled around and glared, her book bag swinging behind her. "In _my_ world, nobody gets paid for prancing around. We get by on bloody hard work! And that's what you'll be doing till you pass your NEWTS. Bloody. Hard. _Work_."

She stormed off. Behind her, Scorpius yelled petulantly, "I'm not showing up!"

Oh, he was the _worst._

* * *

Albus was wiping his eyes, he was laughing so hard. Rose had to kick him in the shin before he regained any sort of composure. Around them, students were filing toward the Great Hall for dinner.

" _Dreadful_ for Transfiguration," Albus wheezed, holding on to Rose's arm for support. "He's my best friend, but really? Who gets a D for anything? How did he even qualify to take the subject?"

"Dom told me before. The minimum requirement to take a subject at NEWT-level at Beauxbatons was an A," Rose said flatly. "So he probably did qualify, fair and square." She recalled the rest of Scorpius' post-OWL grades and shuddered involuntarily. If she even so much as got an A, her mother would kick up an endless fuss. Rose wasn't conventionally brilliant like her cousin Lucy, but she worked hard at for her grades. It was certainly more worthwhile to get an E than a Howler.

"Rosie. You have to help him." Albus watched her earnestly, his green eyes wide behind his spectacles. "He can't flunk out. His father is already disappointed enough in him as it is."

Scorpius' contentious relationship with his father was well-known within their family, and something that Rose's father and Uncle Harry found deeply amusing. If anything, this endeared Scorpius to them considerably. Yet, despite his complaints, Rose suspected he loved his father dearly and harboured guilt for failing to meet his parents' high expectations.

She pursed her lips, biting back a retort before lowering her head with a small groan. "Why me?"

"Because you're the most patient person I know. You are kind and exceptional and the entirety of Hogwarts depends on you becoming Head Girl."

Rose couldn't hide a smile at Albus' pleading theatrics. She knew he loved Scorpius almost like a brother, and would do anything for his benefit… even if it meant Rose would have to get involved.

Finally, she sighed.

"Alright," she relented, to Albus' relieved smile. "I'll try my best."

"I'll get him to show up for your study sessions," Albus promised. "You're not alone."

* * *

Except she _was_ alone. By the time it was eight-thirty, Rose gave up on any hope of Scorpius Malfoy showing up. Instead, it was Mathilda who occupied the seat across from her, mooning over the Scorpius feature article in Witch Weekly. Mathilda was an intelligent witch, and it was beyond Rose how she was reduced to a starry-eyed fangirl over the boy who was ruining her life.

Okay, so that was an exaggeration, but still.

"So apparently his favourite subject is Care For Magical Creatures," Mathilda said in hushed tones. "He's an animal person! How cute is that?"

Rose grunted.

"And his favourite brand is _Delacour._ You must be so pleased, you're almost family to him!" Mathilda sighed dreamily. "Why can't my family be as cool as yours? No, all we have is an old-fashioned microbrewery in Oxford."

Rose set down her quill, raising an eyebrow at her friend. "Math," she said at last, addressing her by nickname, "Don't you have a Herbology essay?"

"Oh, I've finished it," Mathilda said brightly, not getting a hint. Rose groaned inwardly; Mathilda had always been the top student of that subject. "And did you know? He says here that he doesn't have a type! Merlin, we all have a shot with this bloke."

Rose rubbed her temple. There was no way she was getting anything done today. She rolled up her parchments.

Mathilda looked up, surprised. "Where are you going?"

"Taking a walk," Rose said, waving. "See you back in the common room."

It was a relief to finally be on her own. Rose was making her way down the halls, thinking about stealing to the kitchens for a snack, when a conversation carried over from the end of the hallway. She froze, recognising one of the voices.

It was Scorpius with a girl. Rose ducked behind a suit of armour, hoping she wasn't noticed. The girl was twiddling her thumbs, her cheeks flushed.

"Well, that's great," Scorpius was saying, and she could hear his impatience in his tone. "Look, no offense, but you're not my type."

"I thought you didn't have a type," the girl said in a small voice. She looked to be a fourth-year Gryffindor. Well, that made sense, Rose thought sardonically. To confess to Scorpius, one needed to be brave. Or just plain reckless.

"Charlotte, you don't even know me," Scorpius said.

"Corliss," the girl corrected softly.

"Right," Scorpius said dismissively. "Look, you're cute. Some guys like your sort. You've got the whole petite, helpless thing going for you. But I just prefer my girls tall. Like Hertha Rowle. You're not _anything_ like her. She's blonde, you're not, she's fit, you're…" He paused, as though realising he may have gone overboard. "Anyway. You get my point, don't you?"

Corliss looked on the verge of tears. Scorpius took her hand and pressed a piece of parchment in her palm—her love letter to him, Rose realised. With a sob, Corliss tore down the hall, scarcely noticing her as she passed. She heard Scorpius heave a long sigh, then—

"In the name of Albus Dumbledore, Rose. Are you _stalking_ me?"

Rose managed a withering look before prying herself out from behind the suit of armour. Scorpius was watching her, arms folded and frowning. Despite herself, she couldn't help but notice how good-looking he was, even in the dim of the hallway. His hair fell across his eyes, and the firelight only served to accentuate his striking profile.

Merlin, this boy was impossible.

A beat, then—

"I was _not._ "

Scorpius smirked at her late retort, reaching out to tug at a loose lock of her hair.

"Please. You wouldn't be the first." Then he was on his way, his cloak bellowing behind him. Rose huffed and followed.

"It's a public hallway! I'm allowed to be here."

"Yeah, okay, where did I hear that excuse before?"

"I can't _believe_ what an arse you were to her!"

Scorpius stopped and turned to her. "Is she your friend or something?"

"No, but—"

Scorpius gave her a big roll of his eyes and continued walking. Rose felt indignation rising in her chest. "Hertha Rowle! You compared a fourth-year to a bloody supermodel!"

"Because Hertha Rowle _is_ my type. Tall, sexy, blonde. Did you want me to lie to her?"

Rose clenched her fists at his arrogance, and said the first thing that popped into her head—

"You said you didn't have a type!"

Scorpius stopped the second time, and Rose collided into his back. He looked at her over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

"And when in seven hells did I ever say that?"

She gaped at him, her cheeks reddening at the question. Comprehension dawned on his face. Rose took a tentative step back as he leaned in slowly.

"Witch Weekly, wasn't it? You read my feature article." He looked so pleased with himself that Rose had to resist grabbing her wand and hexing him. "So. Rosie-kins. That's what it's all about. You do like me."

"What?"

"Playing hard to get in the summers, acting all indifferent towards me… when actually you read my articles, follow my love life, and now you're even _stalking_ me—"

Rose's jaw dropped. "That's not—"

"It all makes so much sense." Scorpius had backed her against the wall, his grin splitting his face. "Merlin, wait till I tell Albus."

"You've completely misunderstood," Rose said, raising her voice. "I don't fancy you! I don't even subscribe to Witch Weekly—"

Scorpius tilted his head at her, smiling as he stuffed his hands into his pocket. " _Sure._ 7 o'clock tomorrow, right?"

Rose stared at him, clueless.

"Rosie-kins. You said you'd help me with Transfiguration. We have to do this often, don't we? We have _so much_ to catch up on."

He graced her with a parting wink and headed off, whistling down the hallway. Rose stayed against the wall, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from disbelief. She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to three.

1, 2…

What in Merlin's name just happened?


End file.
